0
0
I want to share some anecdotes about people code-switching their own names. (I’m simplifying pronunciations–linguists, forgive me in advance.)
This is not about the mispronunciation of names when they’re pronounced by someone who doesn’t have all of the same sounds in their native language. That’s to be expected. Mispronunciation isn’t what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about changing a name or not learning a name or otherwise causing a situation where someone begins to code-switch their own name.
My first anecdote is about one of my stepson’s friends in high school. His name is Shahid. Both parents are Pakistani. In Arabic (the origin of the name), there are two names that can be rendered like Shahid. One sounds like SHA-hid (stress on the first syllable, vowels the same as in ‘arid’); the other like Sha-HEED (stress on second syllable, vowels like in ‘a deed’). They’re spelled differently in Arabic, but often, both are spelled Shahid in English.
The word that sounds like SHAhid means ‘witness’ and the word that sounds like ShaHEED means ‘martyr’. They’re two totally different words with totally different meanings.
Shahid’s name is SHAhid. However, he was first introduced to us as ShaHEED. After a while of knowing Shahid as ShaHEED, our son came home and told us that he’d been to Shahid’s house and his parents were calling him SHAhid. We were like WHAT? THAT’S A DIFFERENT NAME.
The next time Shahid was at the house, we asked him what was up. Turns out, this had begun in elementary school. The teachers were calling him ShaHEED, and he, being a young child, didn’t correct them. At a parent-teacher conference, his parents sat through the meeting with the teacher saying ShaHEED this, and ShaHEED that. Finally at the end, Shahid’s father was like, “Who is this Shaheed person?”
But it continued year after year.
American English speakers are 100% capable of pronouncing SHAhid. We have every sound in the English language. But young Shahid didn’t feel comfortable correcting people, got tired of correcting people, passed the time period where it becomes awkward to correct people, etc. So he had his given name that his family and close friends used, and his school name.
You should never have to code-switch your name.
Not long after this, I got to watch this transition with a child in real time. At my daughter’s preschool, there was a boy named Abbas. The pronunciation is uh-BASS. The stress is on the second syllable. The vowels are kind of like saying “a bassinet” (your vowels could vary). Even if you can’t get the vowels just right, the stress is easy enough.
At the beginning of the year, I met 3-year-old Abbas’ parents at school. I knew his name as it’s pronounced. I began to notice throughout the year, though, the teachers calling him AAH-biss. Then one day, he introduced himself to me as AAH-biss. Halfway through the year, he was referring to himself with this new name. I asked his mother one day: His name is Abbas, right? She said yes. I asked if she’d heard what the teachers called him and she said yeah, basically rolled her eyes, she’s used to it. I then asked if she’d heard him call himself AAH-biss. She was horrified.
I don’t know how it panned out–we weren’t close to the parents. I just know that I watched a little boy’s name change before my eyes.
You should never have to code-switch your name.
About a decade ago, I watched a young Saudi woman not want to rock the boat with her name while she was a Master’s student. Shatha is how her name was rendered in English. Her name sounds kind of like saying “shed the” in the sentence “I like the shed the guy is selling.” But teachers mostly called her “SHAH-thuh,” with a soft th like in ‘thorn’. She never corrected them.
One evening, I was at a professor’s get-together with Shatha and another young Saudi woman in the program. The other woman said, “Isn’t it great how Kari can actually pronounce our names?” After that, I emailed the department head and kindly told him I’d noticed that he pronounced Shatha incorrectly and thought that he, as a linguist, might be interested in knowing how it was pronounced. He did learn it and use it after that.
Me being an asshole:
The first time I attempted college (don’t ask), I was hanging out in someone’s dorm room. He introduced me to his friend, who was from Bangladesh. I don’t remember the friend’s name. In fact, when I couldn’t pronounce his name, I told him I’d just call him Bangles, short for Bangladesh. (Literally, I said this.) He said, “No. That’s not my name.” He was having none of it.
I never properly learned his name. That’s some white women shit right there.
